


Rejected

by Kymopoleia



Category: DCU
Genre: Damian has no powers, Gen, Tim is less of an ass than he could have been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3372659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymopoleia/pseuds/Kymopoleia





	Rejected

"Roses are red, violets are blue, for the life of me, Todd, I don't see why the hell I'd pick you." Damian looked him up and down, dark green-brown eyes scrutinizing his 'brother'.

"You need your cape as much as I need my hood. Why not combine the two, make a fairytale real." Jason suggests.

"Get to the point, Todd? I've more important things to be doing."

Jason nods, even though they both know that Damian is in a bad situation, and that there isn't anything he could do, important or not.

"Be the Little Red to my Red Hood."

Damian's head cocks to the side as he puzzles over the statement. "What makes you think I want to be anything with you?"

"Like I said, you need your cape, I need my hood. Brucie kicked you out because you're- well, you remind him of me. You're impulsive and you have both your parents, and you can kill. He can't connect to you because you don't fit in with his personal childhood trauma."

Damian's eyebrows furrow. "I was doing well though, as a partner. I have a wonderful fighting technique, my investigative skills are improving, and I've been doing my best. I even ignore his blatant disregard and disrespect for my religious beliefs because he is my father. I don't understand."

"Bruce grades us Robins like a schoolteacher grades kids, and the factor that really counts is relevance to him. He might not actually be aware of it, but it's true. I had a dead stepmom and a missing dad, grew up in crime alley, and had the right cheekbones and hair color for him to connect to me. He saw himself in me. When I proved to be my own person, to be neither Dick Grayson nor Bruce Wayne, we started to sync less. As long as he thought I was like him, we were fine. The moment that connection was severed, he couldn't figure out how I worked, couldn't see that what I was doing worked for me."

Damian steeled himself for what would come next.

"With you, it's different. He has the moral dilemma- to connect to you, one or both of your parents have to be dead as dirt. He was, for a time, but he can't connect to you if he's dead. And Talia is an old partner, he doesn't want her to die. He talked to me about you once or twice, and the subject of the pearl came up."

Jason pauses when Damian groans loudly.

"I despise that pearl. Father looks at me, disgusted, until the second I handed him that pearl. I managed to find it, after months of grueling work and cutting school-"

Jason snorts. "No wonder he doesn't like you. You're perfect."

The words hit Damian like a sledgehammer, and he finds himself blushing just a bit as he continues.

"He dropped everything and- and hugged me!"

"Oh, the horror."

"Yes, the horror." Damian snaps back at the sarcastic Gotham drawl. "He hugged me, after looking at me like I was trash needing to be taken out, and then pretended nothing had happened! No 'thank you's, just a hug and a temporary lull in his constant lectures on what I'm doing wrong. And, and, there's always more on the list." Frustrated tears start to swell in his eyes. "Now he has removed me and I don't know what to do- I can't return to mother and grandfather a failure."

Jason takes a few seconds to take in how meek and vulnerable Bruce had left Damian, and comes closer to him. Damian sinks back, as if he accepted a blow.

"Shush, it's okay. Calm down. You aren't going anywhere, not if I got anything to say about it." Jason grins at him. "Wanna go design your new outfit? The yellow has to go."

Damian nods, taking Jason's offered hand. He's pulled into the most uncomfortable hug he's ever experienced, besides the one his father gave him.

"Do I have to have a basket?"

"Yes, little red, fuck yes."

When Dick heard through the grapevine that Damian, his Robin, his partner and his friend and his brother, had been brought back to life, it took everything in his power to not go to him. When he heard that Batman had kicked the current Robin and was currently gallivanting about with some new vigilante named Bluebird, he left- totally sacrificing the mission- just to go back to Gotham for a few hours and fuck Bruce up.

He went directly to the cave, jaw set and arms crossed. In his anger, though, he'd forgotten Alfred.

"Oh my- Master Richard?" The elderly man asks, having dropped his silver tray and teacup that he had brought down, knowing instinctively when someone was brooding.

Dick curses, face softening as he goes to Alfred to help him pick up the remains of the cup and then help him stand.

"Yes, Alfred, it's me. Please don't tell Timmy or Jay or Steph or-" his voice cracks. "B-Babs. Dami can't know either. I'm here to yell at Bruce and tell him what a big mistake he's made, firing Dami."

Alfred nods. "I agree, Master Richard. I haven't seen the boy that upset in all of my time with him."

"I know."

Alfred reaches out and rests a hand on Dick's cheek fondly. "It is good to see you, Master Richard. I- I feared you would not come back to us."

Dick closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. "It's- it's difficult. And it's for the sake of the mission, I have to save-"

"Dick." Bruce is still using his Batman voice, but it does nothing on Dick. He opens his eyes and smiles at Alfred, before turning around, smile shifting to something darker.

"Brucie." His voice comes out sweet and coated in venom. "I thought you were going to talk to me about things involving my Robin."

Bruce tenses, remaining in the protection of the cowl.

"Take of the cowl you coward." His eyes narrow as he snarls out the words. "I'm not pissed at Batman, I'm furious with you." It dawns on him that he's practically channeling Jason for strength.

Alfred leaves quietly to prepare new tea and give them some time to themselves.

Bruce slowly disables the safety mechanisms on his suit and removes the gloves and cowl. He looks a bit scared, face sweaty and dirty. There's a cut on his lower lip that hasn't scabbed up yet, and his eyes are bright from a successful night.

Dick is pissed that he looks attractive.

"First, you don't tell me that Damian is alive. What the fuck??? He's my little brother, Bruce, and he's my Robin. Do you understand that, Bruce? When you were gone, I had the cowl and I had Damian and it worked." Dick has his fists on his hips, his nails digging into his palms to keep from doing something dumb.

"Dick-" Bruce starts, with his split lip and bright eyes.

"Don't you dare interrupt me." Dick hisses.

Bruce's mouth snaps shut.

"Do you know what I heard yesterday? I heard that you, you, fired my Robin."

Bruce gulps.

"What the hell Bruce????" Dick screams. "That isn't your decision to make! You didn't talk to me, you didn't even acknowledge my existence!"

"You are legally dead and I am his father, I am his Batman." Bruce interrupts, blatantly disregarding the warning Dick had given him.

Dick came at Bruce, and slapped him. Bruce didn't block the hit, though it would have been so easy for him to.

"I can't believe you." Dick looks him up and down. "If you think that law matters, if you think that I would let you do something like this, you are wrong. Do you even know where he is?"

"Upstairs, in his room."

Dick turns and stalks away, shouting over his shoulder. "He had better be. I don't care about the mission anymore, you can fucking do it yourself."

Damian is in the nicest safe house he's ever seen, wearing pajamas and hand-sewing the cape for his new costume. Jason is sitting next to him on the couch, feeding the uniform through the sewing machine that he has set up on the coffee table. He has a glass of wine by Damian's glass of juice.

The safe house is located in the nicest part of town, a penthouse apartment with shimmering stained glass windows and the most organized and well kept kitchen he has ever seen. There isn't a thing out of place, and even though there are firearms in the apartment, they are either in beautiful cases, or in safes, or stowed between things for easy access. Everything is clean and there isn't a speck of dust.

"Hey, kid, you're getting blood on your cape." Jason tells him, jerking his elbow towards where Damian has pricked his finger.

Damian brings his hand up to suck the blood away, then wipes his hand on his pants, nodding to thank Jason.

It's mostly quiet, other than the hum of the sewing machine and the constant soft noise of them breathing.

Damian is fourteen now, or maybe fifteen, he isn't really sure. Being dead for a year is seriously messing with his perception of time, and it being January now doesn't help.

"What happened when I was gone? Richard... Grayson died. Drake got a new haircut. Father became worse. You are being nice to me." He finally asks. No one had talked to him much since he came back. Sure, he could've gone to speak to Colin, but would the other have known the going-ons of Damian's family?

Damian had barely spoken since returning. To Father, to Pennyworth, words were few and far between. To Drake they were bitter and short and half-hearted, though the other couldn't seem to tell that, and responded with verbal hits below the belt that left him with stinging eyes and shaking hands. To Grayson... There had been none but between Damian and his grave, and then his mother's grave, and then finally to his own grave. The words were sorrowful and lonely and had stopped too quickly for anyone to come outside and discover his presence in the pouring rain.

"You died, kid. We tried to deal. Dickie bird died, we couldn't deal. Bruce handled it better than I thought he would, when... When Dick died, but he was still hung up on you. He came to me to ask about the Lazarus pit, and I had to punch him to deter him from that. I wouldn't let him do that to you."

"But... Grandfather did, and now I am here and Father no longer wants me."

"That's how Bruce is."

Tim Drake was waiting for the text from Bruce to officially tell him what he'd already heard. He was practically bouncing from the anxiety of waiting and being kept waiting. 

The rest of the Titans are milling about the room, sipping at cups of water and sampling the organic chips that had been set out for them. The new girl, Tanya, sorts the jellybeans by color.

Cassie watches him with sharp eyes, and Raven talks to Tanya quietly. Garfield and Bunker talk about some video game that they want to play, and Tim waits.

His phone buzzes on the arm of the couch, and he snatches it up so quickly that Cassie raises one eyebrow up.

He flashes a sheepish smile and reads the message.

'This is Dick. Come to the manor now. Or else.'

Okay, not what he expected, but.

"Uh, man, are you okay?" Gar asks. "You're looking a little green. And not even in the handsome way, like me, but in the I'm-gonna-hurl way."

Tim shakes his head numbly, eyes still fixed on the phone's screen. Dick. There was only one person he knew that went by that, that had this number, that could say something like that and send his heart fluttering and his head reeling.

Slowly, he taps out a reply.

'Proof.'

The response is immediate. A selfie of Dick, his lips in a smile but his eyes sad and hollow. There's a bruise on his temple and a cut along his cheek.

The shirt that he's wearing is one that Tim had given him at Christmas. In the background is the kitchen, and yes, this is new, because that painting was bought at an auction benefit for aid of the civil war in the Central African Republic just last month.

Tim sobs, hands starting to shake. He doesn't move, but staring at the picture, he just- he can't. He can't deal with it.

Cassie stands and grabs the phone from his hands easily, before her eyes widen and she almost drops it.

Bunker sends a chunk of purple bricks over to catch the phone, and then catches the phone himself. "Isn't that-" Gar snatches the phone from him and squeaked loudly, showing the phone to Raven and Tanya.

Cassie wraps an arm around Tim reassuringly.

Dick stands in the kitchen, putting the phone in his pocket. Bruce is in the doorway, and Alfred is nowhere to be found. The silence is tense.

"You know," Dick breaks it without turning around. "I'd be less upset if this was the first time you'd done this."


End file.
